


Sanctuary

by Rose_of_Pollux



Series: The Light that Shows the Way (a 13 Ghosts Slice-of-Life Series) [3]
Category: Scooby Doo - All Media Types, The 13 Ghosts of Scooby-Doo (Cartoon)
Genre: Found Family, Gen, Slice of Life, Vincent is the Team Dad; he just doesn't realize it yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:08:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29244075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_of_Pollux/pseuds/Rose_of_Pollux
Summary: [Original 13 Ghosts 'verse, based on episode 6] In which a certain warlock has a large castle, 5 weary apprentices in need of a safe haven, and a choice to make.
Series: The Light that Shows the Way (a 13 Ghosts Slice-of-Life Series) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2124471
Comments: 8
Kudos: 3





	Sanctuary

**Author's Note:**

> This oneshot is meant to be a follow-up to episode 6, and is also mostly straightforward. One thing I did notice is that, on most occasions, Vincent’s castle appears as it usually does in the end credits, in clear view. However, in episode 8, when the gang is having dinner with him, the castle appears different, as though the mountain peak is concealing it. While it’s more than likely just an animation discontinuity, I’ve provided a heartwarming explanation for it in this piece.
> 
> The mention of Vincent’s past encounters with witch hunters is something from my Season 2 project piece “What’s Past is Prologue.”

Sometimes, Vincent had to admit that it wasn’t fair, what those youngsters had to go through. After they’d explained to him that Scooby was on the verge of a nervous breakdown and needed a break from ghost-hunting, Vincent had agreed that it would be best for them to relax on that cruise.

And of course, true to their nature, the youngsters had invited him to join them; he’d been ready to, looking forward to enjoying some downtime with them again, except that his ability to teleport in had been blocked somehow.

…That should’ve been his first clue that something was about to go terribly wrong, even before he’d sensed the ghosts on board. And once he’d realized that the ghost captain had been successfully masquerading as Captain Ferguson, that was when Vincent knew that it had been sabotage: that the ghost captain had intended to take the youngsters to the Bermuda Triangle to brute-force the Chest open—and no doubt eliminate the youngsters in the process. But, to accomplish that, the captain had needed Vincent out of the way.

Sheer, dumb luck had saved the day once again—Scrappy had inadvertently gotten the crystal’s transporter working again, allowing Vincent to arrive and get them out of the Triangle, which had allowed Scooby—temporarily at ease thanks to Flim-Flam’s hypnotherapy—to recapture the amalgamation of escaped ghosts.

And now, they found themselves with one setback—with the captain and crew gone, the ghost ship had now vanished, leaving them in the middle of the Atlantic on Scooby’s raft. What was more, the hypnotherapy had worn off, and Scooby was back to being a trembling bundle of nerves on the verge of a breakdown once more.

Vincent was already working on it, readjusting the crystal’s transporter under the moonlight, silently cursing the ghost captain for sabotaging it as much as he had. As he worked, Vincent took note of the conversation going on around him.

“Scoob,” Shaggy was saying. “Scoob, Buddy, you can calm down now. We’re safe.”

But Scooby just whimpered, still shaking like a leaf.

“I think this whole thing set him back further,” Daphne sighed. “What are we going to do…?”

“C’mon, Uncle Scooby,” Scrappy encouraged. “You can pull yourself together like you always do. I know you can!”

But Scooby just shook his head, whimpering some more.

“Okay, now what?” Flim-Flam asked. “This vacation was supposed to help him, but it only made things worse!”

Shaggy just hugged his trembling dog, sighing.

“I wish I knew…” he said. “We’ve got to find somewhere we can lay low and let Scoob recuperate…”

“But _where_?” Daphne lamented. “Where can we go where we can be sure that no ghosts can reach us? Even if we went home and hid there, there’s no guarantee—not after what Zomba did…”

“Maybe Fred or Velma can put us up for a few days?” Scrappy suggested.

“No, if we do that, they’ll ask why Scooby’s in such a state, and we’ll have to explain to them about the Chest,” Daphne said. “And even then, the ghosts could probably find us—and then Fred and Velma will be in danger, too. We can’t bring them into this—it’s for their own safety.”

“The ghosts can probably find us anywhere we go,” Shaggy sighed. He winced as Scooby howled in misery at this realization. “But there has to be _somewhere_ we can go where they can’t reach us…”

“There is,” Vincent said, speaking at last.

The others turned to him in surprise, and Vincent sighed inwardly. The ancient rules of _xenia_ worked two ways, he reminded himself—Daphne had let him stay with them in her house as long as he’d wanted. Having been a guest in her home, the rules of _xenia_ clearly stated that Vincent was obligated to return the favor if required—and that certainly seemed to be the case.

But even if it hadn’t been for _xenia_ , and even if the gang hadn’t already melted the ice he’d encased his heart in, Vincent could never have let them fend for themselves with Scooby in such a state. But now, having gotten attached (against all better judgment), there was only one logical course of action.

“You know a safe place where we can go?” Daphne asked.

“Yes,” he replied. “You can come back to Tibet with me.”

They all blinked, as though hardly daring to believe that Vincent had just extended an invitation to them. Even Scooby had stopped trembling—for the moment, anyway.

“You mean, like, stay with you—in your castle?” Shaggy asked.

“That’s what I said,” Vincent confirmed.

“You don’t mind?” Daphne asked. “I mean, we won’t be putting you out if we stay, will we?”

“Not at all—I wouldn’t have offered otherwise,” he pointed out. “The choice is yours.”

They all glanced at each other.

“Well… it won’t be a tropical cruise,” Shaggy pointed out. “But I’m willing to put up with January in Tibet if it means we’re unreachable to any ghosts. How about it, Scoob?”

Scooby gave a shaky nod.

“Rhi’ll try anything!” he exclaimed.

Vincent now made the final adjustment to the crystal ball.

“Then let’s be off,” he said, activating it.

And instant later, they were in the entrance hall of Vincent’s castle; Scooby let out a yelp as the Gothic décor gave him a start. Shaggy also gulped, but conceded that, given Vincent’s entire aesthetic, he should’ve expected something like this.

“Wow, it’s been a while, Vince,” Flim-Flam grinned. “But I see you haven’t changed the look much.”

“I find myself satisfied with it,” the warlock intoned.

“You’ve been here before, Flim?” Scrappy asked.

“Sure—Vince took me in about two years ago when I was out in the cold, and I just decided to make myself at home.”

“And you’ve had no trouble with that,” Vincent returned. “Your room is just where you left it—in the turret.” He turned to the others. “You’ll find the other guest rooms beside Flim-Flam’s—pick whichever ones you want, and let me know what you need.”

“Thank you so much, Mr. Van Ghoul,” Daphne said, with a grateful smile. “Um… Is there anywhere in this castle that you’d prefer us not to go to?”

“I appreciate you asking, but no. However, for your own safety, I must ask you not to touch any artifacts you come across—a lot of them are enchanted, and I’d hate for you to end up inadvertently hexing yourselves.”

Shaggy gulped.

“Yeah, I’d prefer to avoid that, too,” he said, with a nervous chuckle. “But, like, I’ve just got one question left—”

Vincent conjured up a small map of the castle and handed it to Shaggy, already anticipating his request.

“That’s the way to the kitchen,” Vincent informed him, indicating a series of arrows drawn on the map.

“Thank you, Sir!” Shaggy grinned. “C’mon, Scoob—some food will help you feel better!”

“Rhi hope so…” Scooby sighed, but he followed Shaggy anyway.

Vincent sighed inwardly as he watched the Dane head off, still shaky; he’d been forcefully reminded of Mortifer during his near-breakdowns when he’d had to take on two of the ghosts alone—Zomba had been the first one, and he’d managed to capture another one while Vincent had been locked in a duel with Maldor. Vincent hadn’t even managed to figure out which of the 13 Ghosts Mortifer had captured—when pressed, he’d only mention something about monstrous clowns, a ringmaster, and a haunting music. As with Zomba, Vincent had let the matter go for Moritfer’s sanity.

Mortifer had recovered in time—Vincent could only hope that Scooby would, as well.

“Well, while those two are chowing down, I think I’ll freshen up and take a much-needed rest,” Daphne sighed.

“Right—just follow me,” Flim-Flam chirruped, leading Daphne and Scrappy up to the turret.

Left alone in the hall, Vincent now turned his attention to the front doors, and to the enchanted statue head of Pallas Athena resting above them. The statue head would, in the presence of danger nearby, glow as a warning, but there was no glow now. It was safe—and Vincent would keep it that way.

He flexed the fingers on his right hand for a moment before aiming his hand at the threshold—

“ _Protect_!”

A sphere of light shot out from his hand, striking the threshold, upon which it expanded to cover the entire castle.

Nothing would be able to enter the castle now, but Vincent still felt as though he could do better—the castle itself was a beacon to malevolent spirits and monsters that sought any of the enchanted artifacts inside, including the Chest. The protection spell was meant to be a last line of defense—and the first line of defense would be to conceal the castle as best as he possibly could.

He pointed his hands downward, and began to concentrate—

“ _Quaga_!”

The mountain shook, and as Vincent now pointed his hands skyward and slowly raised his arms, the entire peak began to rise up around the castle, covering all of the brick faces in a layer of rock, leaving gaps here and there for the windows, and a large gap for the front doors. Aside from those, the castle was perfectly camouflaged.

With this accomplished, he paused to catch his breath—those two spells had required quite a bit of mana to cast, but it was worth it.

No harm would befall those youngsters under his roof.

“Um…”

Vincent froze for a moment before turning around, seeing Daphne there; she was sheepishly reaching for the suitcase she’d left in the hall.

“I, uh, forgot this,” she said.

Vincent cleared his throat, hoping he didn’t look as though he’d expended all that effort.

“So I see,” he managed to say. “…How long have you been standing there?”

“Well, um… I didn’t want to disturb you, and you looked pretty busy…” She trailed off. “You know, it just hit me—we owe you one again. For helping us out of that jam and putting us up here and… whatever it is you just did.”

“This? Oh, this is nothing,” Vincent replied, dismissively. “I may be content with my choice of interior decorating, but I was ready to try something new for the exterior anyway.”

“…Uh-huh,” she said, fighting back a smile.

…Well, if he hadn’t given himself away completely as soft-hearted before, he’d certainly done so now.

“You know, we’ve come a long way,” Daphne said. “All of us. I think about where we were, when we started, and where we are now… I mean, I wish we weren’t a target of the 13 Ghosts or that they ever got loose, but… We’ve made it this far.”

“You should all be proud of that,” Vincent agreed.

“Well, we’ve learned from the best,” she smiled. “Really—I don’t know where we’d be without you.”

“I’m glad to be of assistance.”

“That’s an understatement!” Daphne exclaimed. “You’ve helped us out so much—you still are now! And, well… I just wish there was a way we could make it up to you.”

“Yeah, I’m all for that,” Shaggy said, returning from the kitchen with Scooby. The two had brought back a tray of snacks; Scooby was still trembling, but the food had seemed to be holding his attention. “We owe you big time!”

“I mean, they’re right,” Flim-Flam added, returning from upstairs with Scrappy. “We kinda do.”

“Yeah, and we sure are grateful!” Scrappy chimed in.

Vincent looked away for a moment, hiding his growing amusement, before turning back to them.

“You have no debt with me,” he assured them. “So you can get the notion of you ‘owing’ me anything out of your heads. Now run along and get some rest—you all need it.”

“If you insist,” Daphne said, still smiling. “And thanks again.”

“I’m actually not that tired,” Flim-Flam mused. “I think I’ll stay up and watch some tv or something…”

“Oh?” Vincent asked, arching an eyebrow. “Well, I trust that all of your books are still in your room?

“…Yeah…?” Flim-Flam asked, clearly not liking where this conversation was going.

“Good; if you’re so awake, then you may as well continue with your studies.”

“What!?” the boy exclaimed. “But, Vince, it’s winter vacation! We’re in the middle of an epic quest!”

“The quest is on hold, and your studies have been on hold long enough. You’ll be off on another adventure soon—you can afford to spend some time with those books.”

“But—”

“ _Flim-Flam_ …!”

Flim-Flam sighed something in Nepali before turning back to Scrappy. “Wanna help me with my homework?”

“Uh… gee, you know I would, but I really gotta rest up,” the puppy replied. “G’night, Everyone!”

“Oh, _that_ was convenient!” Flim-Flam exclaimed, chasing after Scrappy as he headed back to the turret.

“Like, wow,” Shaggy mused, watching them run off. “You’ve been home-schooling Flim-Flam, Mr. V?”

“ _Someone_ had to,” Vincent shrugged.

“I can relate to Flim-Flam,” Daphne said, with a nostalgic sigh. “Remember when solving mysteries seemed more appealing than doing our homework back in high school?”

“ _No_ ,” Shaggy replied, flatly. “Like, it was bad enough getting chased by all those crooks, but _then_ we all had to cram Sunday night to get our homework done! Well, except Velma, of course—she always finished hers in study hall before the weekend even started! …Which wouldn’t have been so bad if it weren’t for the fact that she’d never give us the answers!”

“She had a point,” Vincent informed him.

“…Somehow, I knew you’d take her side,” Shaggy sighed.

Scooby giggled a little at that—the first time he had consciously giggled since his nerves had frayed. Shaggy, Daphne, and Vincent all took that as a hopeful sign.

“You’re getting better every moment, Buddy,” Shaggy encouraged. “C’mon, let’s take these snacks upstairs.” He paused. “Uh, you don’t mind if we eat in our rooms, right, Mr. V?”

“No, but do _try_ to make an effort not to get crumbs everywhere.”

“Will do,” Shaggy promised.

He and Scooby headed up to the turret; Daphne followed with her suitcase, but she paused long enough to look back and thank Vincent once more.

He waited until he was absolutely sure that they weren’t coming back down to allow his weariness from all that spellcasting to finally show. Slowly, he made his way to his study in the eastern wing, relaxing on his armchair by the fireplace. All he would need is to take it easy for a bit, until his mana replenished itself. Thankfully, he hadn’t depleted it completely; it shouldn’t take much time at all.

He snoozed for a while, waking up a few hours later to the sound of claws on stone coming from the corridor.

“…Scooby?” he ventured, realizing that the sound was too loud to be Scrappy.

The Dane poked his head into the room, still shaking slightly.

“Is something the matter with your room?” Vincent asked.

“Rhno…” Scooby said. “Rhaggy fell asleep… Rheveryone is asleep upstairs…”

“I see, and you were wondering if I was awake.” 

“Rheah…” the dog replied. “Can I stay rhere for a bit?”

Even if Scooby’s nerves weren’t in such a state, Vincent wouldn’t have been able to find it in his heart to refuse.

“Of course you can,” he said.

He hadn’t expected, however, for the Dane to bound over to him on the armchair, leaping into his arms as he usually did with Shaggy. Scooby wrapped his front legs around him, resting his head on the warlock’s shoulder.

Vincent could only sigh and accept his fate.

“You know, Scooby, you are a great many things—but a lap dog _isn’t_ one of them,” he commented.

“Rhuh?”

“…Nevermind.”

Scooby was still shaking, and if it would help his nerves, Vincent could put up with this for a while.

“I know you have a lot to worry about…” Vincent began.

“Rhi don’t like rhosts or monsters!” Scooby whimpered.

“Yes, that was something I intuited with great alacrity.”

“…Rhat’s that mean?”

“That I figured it out for myself very quickly.”

“Ohhh,” Scooby said, and he giggled slightly again. “Just like Velma.”

“I beg your pardon?” Vincent asked.

“She uses rhose big words a lot, too,” Scooby recalled. “Rhe usually gotta ask her rhat she means.”

“You must miss her a lot,” Vincent observed.

“Rheah. Freddie, too…”

“I can understand that,” Vincent said. “It was my decision, but it’s been a while since I’ve seen my old cohorts, too—well, except for Byron, of course. But even though it was my choice, that doesn’t mean I don’t miss them.”

“Aww…” Scooby said. “Rhi bet they miss rhou, too.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” Vincent mused. “There were six of us—four warlocks, including myself, and two witches. And we had a raven as our mascot—she was a familiar to one of the witches; she’s still with her, I’m sure.”

“Did rhou solve mysteries together?”

“Yes, I suppose you could call some of those adventures ‘mysteries,’” Vincent recalled. 

“Aww. Just like us…”

Vincent suppressed an amused chuckle. Had that been why he’d gotten so attached to these mortals—because they reminded him of his own gang from his schooldays?

“I remember once,” he said, after some time. “We had shrines to all of the Olympians at school—for us to leave offerings to our patron God or Goddess. My companions and I had all chosen Athena for our patron Goddess, and one day, we found that someone had taken the idol in the shrine and replaced it with a fake…”

Vincent trailed off as he realized Scooby had nodded off to sleep. He must have been so tired, but unable to sleep until finally realizing that was, at last, truly safe here, and could finally let his guard down.

“…Well, I’ll tell you the story another time,” he said.

It took him a moment, however, to realize that he was still stuck under 180 pounds of dog, and that there would be no feasible way of escape without waking Scooby up—even a teleport spell might wake him, and with his nerves in such a state, Scooby needed all the sleep he could get.

Vincent now cast a glance at the crystal ball on the table beside the chair, mulling over what Scooby had said earlier, about how the others must have missed him after so long. He’d had his reasons for shutting everyone out—and Voudini had been the only one stubborn and determined enough to keep trying to get back in touch with him and giving him updates on the others…

He managed to get one hand free and placed it on the crystal, concentrating until—

“ _Vincent_ …!?” he heard Voudini ask, gobsmacked. “You… you’re calling me?”

“Not so loud!” Vincent quietly chided to the image of his old friend. He indicated Scooby. “He’s finally asleep!”

“…Yes, I see…” Voudini said, looking very pleased about something.

“What’s that look for?” Vincent queried.

“Nothing,” Voudini bluffed. “Well, if you don’t mind my asking, how has it come to pass that you are seeking my counsel?”

“Curiosity,” Vincent admitted. “I suppose Byron told you all about what happened in Kiev.”

“That, he did. He was quite moved to see you again after so long, Vincent, even if he’d hoped the circumstances had been different.”

“Yes, I’m sure…” Vincent sighed. “He seems to be doing well for himself.”

“All of the old crowd are—and now, I can say that you are, as well.”

Vincent let out a quiet grunt.

“Vincent…” Voudini continued. “Our old Order is having our annual meeting in a few weeks—we’ve chosen a hotel in New Orleans, a few days before the mortal festival of Mardi Gras.”

“Mardi Gras?” Vincent repeated, arching an eyebrow. “Voudini, that celebration goes on for over a week in advance; there’ll be mortals _everywhere_!”

“Half-smashed out of their wits and all in a variety of costumes,” Voudini pointed out. “Even if they _do_ notice a crowd of warlocks in their midst, they won’t give us a second glance. It is the perfect camouflage.”

“I suppose…”

“Bryon is still cleaning up from the aftermath of Morbidia’s mess; he has extended his regrets that he cannot attend,” Voudini went on. “And Boris is preoccupied with that infernal show of his—he won’t be coming, either. And, of course, Alisa and Miranda will be at their own witches’ conclave—I believe in London this year.”

“So, you’re the only one from the old crowd who’ll be at the meeting?” Vincent asked.

“Yes—unless I can convince you to attend,” Voudini said.

“…You must be joking.”

“I am absolutely serious,” Voudini said. “What’s more, if you were to attend, you would be chosen as Warlock of the Year by default.”

“Hmph. Really?”

“Vincent, all of us in the Order know what you did for us three hundred years ago—that you made yourself be the decoy for the witch hunters to buy us time to go into hiding. I only regret that we were not able to save _you_ in time…” Voudini trailed off, wincing as he saw the familiar flash of pain cross Vincent’s features. “…Forgive me for bringing it up. But your sacrifice has never been taken lightly, even after so much time has passed. If you were to attend, you would receive a hero’s welcome.”

“That well may be, but I have new responsibilities now, Voudini.” He indicated the still-sleeping Scooby.

“Bring them along!” Voudini insisted. “I, for one, wish to meet the mortals who succeeded where your fellow mages failed.”

“…But they’re mortals!” Vincent pointed out. “Would they even be allowed to be present at a meeting of the Order?”

“No, but, again, after everything you’ve done for the Order, no one would dare question anything you did at this point—even bringing mortals along.”

Vincent let out a quiet scoff.

“Well… I’ll consider it,” he said.

“That’s all I can possibly ask of you,” Voudini returned. “Take care, my friend.”

The crystal went quiet once more, leaving Vincent with a lot to think about. Voudini clearly wanted to see him again in person, and Vincent had to admit that he wanted that, as well—it had been such a long time…

And there was, of course, that part of him that missed being active in mage society now that the time of the witch hunters was long over and done; his exile had been self-imposed, and, as Voudini had pointed out, this ragtag group of mortals had been the ones to drag him out of his castle after such a long time.

He glanced at Scooby once more; the Dane was still using his shoulder as a pillow, sound asleep.

Well… perhaps it would be a unique experience for his young apprentices to experience mage society for themselves—a chance for him to share his world with them. Yes, he would attend—and bring them with him.

After all, what was the worst that could happen?


End file.
